A Dangerous Liaison
by LotlLove
Summary: In which Bernie Wolfe encounters the notorious Mrs Beauchamp... [A little plot bunny that may be deeply unpopular but needed to be written!] Rating changed to M for chapter 10 onwards.
1. Chapter 1 (07-29 09:05:44)

The office door slammed behind her as she strode rigidly to the desk and sat down heavily in the chair with a sigh. Across the room, Ric raise his eyebrows and tapped his biro pensievely against his finger.

"Anything I can..." He started.

"No." Bernie interrupted with a huff, dismissing his offer of help. "I can deal with whatever this place throws at me, thank you very much."

The last thing she needed was Ric's smugly zen attitude when she was irritated, it only served to highlight how much she was struggling to keep things together without Serena's soothing presence.

She logged into the PC, her fingertips crashing into the keys, and a small popping sound announced the arrival of an email in her inbox, marked with a red flag and the word "Urgent" in the subject line. She paused monentarily to consider if she had forgotten to do anything, and drawing a blank she opened it with trepidation, only to be confronted by an angry multi-paragraph message from the head of the ED.

"What on earth?" She muttered under her breath. Ric looked up from his paperwork once again, clearly glad of the distraction.

"Hanssen?"

"No, some jumped up doctor from the ED, sounds like a right bossy madam."

Bernie leaned back in the chair and tried to recall the patient she was being berated about.

"Stephen Skinner, 43, came in with a metal bar through his abdomen. I thought he was better off up here so I diverted the paramedics straight to AAU. Apparently that was a 'serious violation of accepted protocol' and sets a 'dangerous precendent for future critical care pathways'."

The corner of Ric's mouth twitched into a smirk.

"What does that even mean?" She continued without waiting for a response. "I thought we were all meant to be doing what's best for the patient!"

Bernie felt her face flush slightly with anger, fed by the chaos she had been dealing with all day on the ward, along with perhaps a slight hint of guilt that she hadn't entirely followed the rule book on this one. Ric was silent.

"You don't agree with her surely? Come on Ric, she's probably just some frumpy clipboard toting administrator who's worried about her ever decreasing budget. And how dare she address me like that?!"

The office door opened suddenly, and Ollie Valentine half fell through it, tripping slightly when he saw the look on Bernie's face.

"Uh, everything ok?"

Before Bernie could continue, Ric replied.

"Ms Wolfe has just recieved a rather difficult email from Mrs Beauchamp I believe." He said, giving Ollie a knowing look.

Ollie paled slightly at the mention of the surgeon's name. "Oh I see. Hmm. Right, well good luck then..."

He looked from Bernie to Ric and promptly backed out of the office.

"Who is she?" Bernie asked. "Do you know her?"

Ric chuckled. "A little." He replied. "She's... a force to be reckoned with."

"Hah well we'll see about that."

"Bernie, I really would not recommend making a enemy of Mrs Beauchamp. Trust me."

"She doesn't scare me Ric. This is unacceptable. I'm going to tell Hanssen he needs to sort it out."

"Oh I really wouldn't."

Bernie glared at him and left the office, slamming the door for the second time that day. She needed to vent her rage somehow, and feeling justified about her response to Mrs Beauchamp's snotty email was a good start.

As she approached Henrik's door, it opened just enough for Dom to slip out of the office. He gave her an odd look and paused. "Err, Mr Hanssen is a little busy. Perhaps you should come back later."

"Oh I can wait, thank you Dom."

Bernie wasn't going to waste all of the pent up anger that had got her this far. Whatever Hanssen was up to, he would have to open that door sooner or later.

After 10 minutes though, standing outside his office like a naughty schoolgirl waiting to see the headmaster was beginning to feel a bit futile, and she was considering going back to the ward and getting on with some actual work, when the sharp click of a pair of stilletto heels announced the approach of a second person to the CEO's office.

A woman appeared around the corner, moving with a quick, purposeful stride in those fancy shoes but concentrating hard on typing something on her phone rather than where she was going. Her cheekbones were pleasantly highlighted by the glow of the screen, Bernie noted, and framed by soft waves of long dark hair.

She walked straight into Bernie, who despite seeing the collision that was about to happen, had opened her mouth to say something but was temporarily distracted and too late to prevent it. Instead she found herself catching the lady as she lost her balance, the phone crashing to the floor as hands clutched at her blue scrubs and Bernie caught her safely around the waist. The woman looked up and smiled, blushing a little, clearly embarrassed at her carelessness. Bernie suddenly felt her anger melt away, to be replaced by a pleasant feeling of curiosity and the warmth of a very attractive body against her own.

"Sorry, I got distracted. The wonders of modern technology...Is he in?"

The woman extracted herself from Bernie's arms and bent to pick up her phone, inevitably giving Bernie a very pleasant view down her flimsy blouse.

"Mm? Oh Henrik, yes, well no, I mean apparently he's busy."

The woman smiled wryly and rolled her eyes. "I see."

She rapped on the wooden door and pushed it open before the occupant could reply, leaving Bernie feeling a bit silly waiting outside. As she hovered awkwardly in the corridor she heard Hanssen's voice.

"Ah Mrs Beauchamp, do come in, I see that you already have." He stated humourlessly, as the alien noise of his latest musical fad faded away.

Mrs Beauchamp. Mrs Connie Beauchamp of the Emergency Department. With the long legs and the hair and the cheekbones. Oh.


	2. Chapter 2

Ollie appeared by Bernie's side as she pushed open the doors to AAU, having drifted distractedly back to her department.

"Sooo... did you speak to Hanssen? Because the thing is, Connie Beauchamp, she's very... well she's extremely..." He pulled a face but couldn't quite find the words to describe his former boss.

"Never mind Mr Valentine, I'll be in my office if anyone needs me."

Connie Beauchamp. Of course she recognised the name now, cardiothoracic surgeon, and a damn good one at that. She also had a reputation for being something of a man-eating Ice Queen.

Come on Bernie, not the sort of person to develop a crush on, you silly woman. But it was too late for that. She felt a pang of regret for Serena's absence. They had talked about this though, she wasn't able to give Bernie a date for her return, not even vaguely, and they had agreed to go their separate ways for now. Not that it mattered, it wasnt like Connie Beauchamp would have any interest at all in another woman. It was just pleasant to imagine.

Returning to her desk she opened the offending email and began to compose a reply.

Dear Connie,

You have raised some interesting points that I feel we should discuss. Your office or mine?

Yours,

Bernie Wolfe.

Dear Dr Wolfe,

Actually I am extremely busy today, and if everyone would simply follow protocol, there would be no need for a meeting.

Regards,

Connie Beauchamp

Dear Connie,

Let's discuss it over dinner. I'll pick you up at 6.

Bernie

She smirked to herself as she typed, knowing she would never send the message, it would be pointless and embarrassing to even consider flirting with Mrs Beauchamp. Fun to pretend just for a moment though.

The sudden beeping of her pager distracted her from a pleasant daydream. She was needed. She sighed and stood, leaning on the desk as she remembered to delete the draft email that had been on the screen moments before.

It wasnt there.

A hint of panic gripped her deep in the chest as she opened the drafts folder and scanned the page for her message to Connie.

"Fuck."

Then the Sent items.

"Oh Outlook, you complete bastard."

There it was, sent at 16.23, despite the fact that she hadn't clicked a single button. She froze, but her pager went off again and she had no choice but to walk away and stress about it until she'd finished in theatre.

Connie's eyebrows raise an inch when she saw the response to her terse reply. Who did this old goat of a consultant think he was?!

Dinner and a glass of wine and she'd bow to his staggering ego? Or perhaps he thought he was going to get into her knickers. Not bloody likely.

She considered forwarding it straight to HR, but that would prevent her from experiencing the pleasure of verbally eviscerating him herself. No, she would deal with this personally. It was war.

If she could just keep her head down for the next hour, she could go home, open a bottle of wine and attempt to forget the email altogether. She had attempted to compose another, follow-up email, explaining that there had been a mistake (this time without an email address in the recipient field until it was ready, just in case) but her words hadn't seemed very convincing or satisfactory.

It was then that she saw the determined figure sweep onto the ward, swiftly dismissing Ric, who attempted to engage her in conversation, and make a beeline for the consultants office. It was too late to hide. The door swung open and Bernie clocked the fierce anger in Connie's eyes. It softened a little as she saw that there was only one person in the office, and it appeared not to be her intended victim. Did she know who Bernie was?

"Oh, hello again." She smiled a little at the woman who had saved her from hitting the floor earlier in the day, and Bernie wished that that could remain the only memory Connie had of her when she left this office.

"I was looking for Bernard Wolfe, is he on the ward?"

"Err, no," Bernie replied before her brain had a chance to process the enormous stupidity of what she was about to say.Bernard... "He's gone home I'm afraid."

"Oh." Connie looked almost disappointed. "Never mind. Thank you."

She turned to leave the office and Bernie let out a quiet sigh of relief, but the ED doctor had stopped and was staring at the sign on the now open office door. "Mr Eric Griffin and Ms Berenice Wolfe...?"

She turned slowly as she spoke, a mix of curiosity, irritation and confusion in her tone.

"I can explain." Bernie pleaded quickly, said explanation almost tripping over itself in its haste to leave her guilty mouth. "I didn't mean to invite you to dinner, it was a mistake, the email sent by itself, I would never, I mean I would like to discuss the issue but I didn't mean to sound like... like..."

"Fine." Connie interrupted coolly, her expression unreadable. "Then we can forget it."

"Thank you." Bernie replied, her cheeks burning.

There was a brief, awkward silence, and then Connie casually walked back towards Bernie's desk. She held out her hand.

"Connie Beauchamp."

Bernie took the perfectly manicured, soft hand in hers and replied. "Bernie Wolfe."

The ED clinical lead was smiling down at her, looking amused, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her.

"How about we go for a drink?" Connie suggested, "I think you owe me one."

"Right. Yes, ok, I'll just need to get changed."

"I can wait." Connie shrugged, not making a move to leave the office.

Bernie hesitated. Should she change here or go to the locker room? Her and Ric had come to an understanding regarding looking pointedly in the other direction, but Connie wasn't even politely averting her eyes. Bernie grabbed her bag and turned around. Fine, in the army she had stripped down to her bra in the same room as 30 squaddies, this should not be a problem.

"Good evening ladies." Ric greeted them, just as she was wrestling her scrub top over her head. Oh great, now she was exposing herself to more than one consultant.

"To what do we owe this pleasure Mrs Beauchamp?" He asked, making conversation while Bernie slipped her shirt safely over her bra in record time.

"Ms Wolfe and I have some things to discuss. Over a drink. Just a little miscommunication over hospital policy. I'm sure it won't take long to clear up."

Ric gave her a sceptical look. "Be nice, Connie, I need my consultant back in one piece tomorrow."

"And I need to run my department in the most efficient and effective way possible." Connie replied tersely, but her glare quickly turned into a teasing smile and she reached out to smooth the collar of his shirt. "Dont be jealous Ric, your turn next time..."


	3. Chapter 3

The cool glow of white wine soothed away the stresses of the day, and Connie was beginning to relax into the other woman's quiet company. They had gone to a little tapas bar in town, both hungry after long shifts but not willing to commit to a full dinner with an almost-stranger. It was pleasantly cosy, not overwhelmingly Spanish themed and most importantly was not a favourite haunt of any of their colleagues.

Bernie Wolfe was more interesting than Connie had expected, and they had talked easily for the last couple of hours. Despite being generally unaware of hospital gossip, avoiding it partly in fear of hearing her own personal life being dissected through the ranks, even she had heard about Serena Campbell's foray into lesbianism, and now she was starting to put two and two together.

She idly smudged an ice cold droplet of water against the rim of her glass with her thumb, wondering how the evening would pan out.

"So how long have you known Ric?" Bernie asked, eliciting a smirk from the brunette.

"Oh Ric Griffin and I go back a long way. I met him on my first day at Holby; I was his boss. He's a good man. Hopeless in love, but a good man."

She casually skipped over her little dalliance with Ric, a one off and very pleasurable but virtually forgotten encounter. She was aware of Bernie watching her carefully, and the way she listened attentively to Connie's words and appeared to process them with care and consideration. It gave her a sense of satisfaction not to be challenged on her words, but she felt a little unnerved by it all the same, like being in a meeting that she hadn't read the agenda for. That twinkle in Bernie's eye was rather enticing, but it didn't give much away.

Should she ask about Serena? Perhaps it was better not to mention the consultant's name if emotions were still bruised.

She went to pour them both another glass of wine but the bottle parted company with their table too easily in her grasp; it was already empty.

"I've got a couple of these at home, if you'd care to join me?" Connie asked nonchalantly.

She genuinely hoped that Bernie would accept her offer. It wasn't just intrigue and the possibility of some flirtatious behaviour that was driving her. In truth, there was something more, a loneliness that had been gnawing away at her for some time, ignored, dismissed, but growing. It would help to have company this evening.


	4. Chapter 4

"Divorced?"

"Mmhmm." Bernie answered, with another gulp of wine. "Thank goodness."

"Kids?"

"Yes. "

"We have a lot in common." Connie observed as she kicked off her shoes and flexed her toes into the soft carpet with relief, her glossy red nails glinting in the low light.

Bernie sighed and told herself to relax and ignore the fact that she was setting herself up for disappointment here. Connie was stunning and clearly way out of her league. And straight. And probably seeing some terribly handsome male consultant. How had she allowed this to happen? She was becoming enamoured with this utterly gorgeous woman and now she was drinking an unwise quantity of wine on her sofa. Connie curled cat-like into the chair opposite, cradling her glass.

Bernie tried to keep up with the thread of the conversation and not get distracted by imagining her hands on that warm inviting body.

"Some differences." She managed, "I'm guessing your marriage didn't end because you had an affair with a woman."

She hadn't meant to out herself so abruptly, but the alcohol had loosened her tongue. And what did it really matter anyway?

Connie set her glass down on the coffee table and pulled a face.

"Gosh no. Just a run of the mill falling out of love thing for me. With a prison sentence and a VRSA outbreak thrown in."

Bernie raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound very run of the mill to me."

"Hmm well not worth explaining now. HE is not worth explaining. So, are you still... into women?"

Bernie paused to take another sip. Now the truth was really coming out. Oh well, no point lying, she had brought it upon herself. "Yes. I am. Although it turns out being a 40-something lesbian doing shift work living in a very small city doesn't give you much opportunity to meet like-minded people."

"I can imagine."

"Do you meet people? Men I mean?" She already knew the answer, it would be easy for Connie. She was the sort of woman men fell over themselves to seduce, either that or they hated her confident indepence.

"Sometimes. I don't have much luck with relationships though, work always seems to get in the way."

They fell silent, both mulling over what they'd revealed to the other.

Connie took the empty wine glasses and moved to the drinks cabinet. She retrieved two fresh glasses and to Bernie's approval, a bottle of single malt.

"Nightcap?"

"I'd love to, but I should be thinking about ordering a taxi, it's very late." She didn't mean it but tried to sound sincere.

Connie shrugged and poured two generous measures anyway. She sank into the sofa and handed a glass to the woman sitting next to her.

"So stay over." She suggested casually.

"Connie..."

But Connie ignored her, her eyes sparkling as she raised the tumbler.

"Cheers."


	5. Chapter 5

Pleasantly inebriated after the generous measure of Talisker, Bernie excused herself to use the bathroom. Washing her hands at the sink, she squinted at her reflection in the mirror, and took a few moments to give herself a talking to.

What are you doing you silly woman? Even if, IF there is a remote possibility of anything happening... but there had been a suggestion in Connie's velvety tone, hadn't there, and that look in her eyes, her pupils wide and dark... She's playing a game, probably waiting for you to make a fool of yourself.

Bernie dried her hands angrily on the hand towel and then paused, trying to work out if she had been talking to herself out loud.

When she ventured out of the bathroom, the floor moving a little under her feet, she jumped with fright at the sight of someone standing in the corridor. Connie was waiting for her. She was smaller without her ridiculous shoes, but now she gave the impression of a prowling feline as she moved towards Bernie with a natural elegance despite quite obviously being far from sober. A slight sway to her step gave her away.

"Time for bed?" She asked, mock innocently as she drew closer. Bernie went to steady herself against the wall but her hand touched the cool metal of a door handle instead and there was a creak as the door was nudged open. Seizing her opportunity, Connie brushed past Bernie into the room. Taking the blonde woman's hand in hers, one suspiciously swauve manoeuvre had her pinned up against the now closed bedroom door.

It was now almost entirely dark, except for the grey glow of moonlight through parted curtains. Bernie could see the silhouetted shape of her long hair, and her sparkling eyes. Then Connie's lips touched hers, tentatively, softly, and Bernie found herself burying her hand in those soft locks and pushing for more, feeling Connie's mouth opening beneath her own, their tongues exploring, tasting, competing.

Suddenly Connie broke off the kiss and instead began to lick and nibble her way down from Bernie's ear to her shoulder, causing her to immediately ache for her touch somewhere lower.

"Wait." She whispered, and Connie paused.

"What?"

"I.. I'm not sure. Do you really want this?"

Connie gave her a look that suggested she'd just sprouted a second head. Without saying anything, she walked away over to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp.

"Come here."

She said firmly, and not knowing what else to do, Bernie complied. She hovered awkwardly in front of Connie.

"I'm drunk." Connie said bluntly. "And so are you. But I know what I want."

Bernie nodded. Connie's expression softened into an amused smile. She silently lifted the flimsy black dress up and over her head, and lay back on the bed in just her bra and knickers.

"Show me." She murmered. Bernie felt herself come undone.


	6. Chapter 6

The mobile phone on her desk buzzed against her coffee cup, and Connie was jolted out of a rather pleasant train of thought.

 _Busy last night?_

She rolled her eyes and typed a terse reply.

 _Yes, I was out._

 _With The Sap?_

The corner of her mouth twitched into a half smile at the description of Sam Strachan.

 _No, another colleague. And you know that's none of your business._

She reminded him of that fact because lately he'd been taking a little too much interest in her personal life.

 _I know, sorry, I just missed talking to you._

She started typing a reply then stopped, deleted it and started again.

 _I'm not sure why we're doing this..._

She waited a couple of seconds but he didn't reply. Presumably he was busy with work.

She sighed and dropped the phone into her handbag before going back to resus to check on her patient.

"Ms Wolfe?" Hanssen repeated, and Bernie shook herself from her daydream. She had been losing her concentration all morning, and fortunately nothing serious had come into the trauma unit, so her complete inability to focus had merely resulted in a growing pile of AAU paperwork.

"Yes Mr Hanssen, 4 o'clock this afternoon, fine."

The hospital CEO nodded curtly, half frowning, and stalked silently out of the office.

 _Bloody hell, look what you've done to me woman._

Bernie smirked as she picked up her biro and attempted to fill in a discharge form for the third time.

 _"Like this?" Bernie whispered, pressing a hot wet mouth to the delicate skin of Connie's inner thigh._

"Talking to yourself?" Ric asked as he came through the office door. "First sign of madness you know."

Bernie felt her cheeks burn red as she tried to supress a smile.

"Good afternoon Mr Griffin."

Ric paused and eyed her suspiciously. "You're cheerful. I'm not sure that's hospital policy."

Bernie made a little noise of agreement, not willing to commit herself to words on the subject of her unusually pleased demeanour.

"I doubt it was Hanssen who put you in such a good mood." Ric deduced as he sat down at the desk opposite. "And you spent the evening arguing with Connie Beauchamp, so you've no right to be cheerful at all."

"Mmm." Bernie replied, non-committal.

"Oh go on, tell me," Ric leaned forward conspiratorially, angling for gossip. "how awful was it? Did she do any lasting damage?"

 _"Harder. I won't break." Connie breathed._

That was about as much as Bernie could take.

"No, no she was... err got to go and see someone about an MRI. Back later." She replied, rushing out of their office to get some space.

"'Ello Mrs B, how are you doin' then?" Fletch asked jovially as his former boss entered the lift, her black heels clicking loudly on the hollow floor.

"Good, thank you Nurse Fletcher. How are you enjoying working on AAU?" She asked politely, not really caring too much about the answer. After all, he'd only asked her for the same reason. She was well aware that she had no real friends on the nursing staff.

"Not bad, not bad, though with Ms Campbell gone were even busier than ever. And everyone misses her, you know. Ms Wolfe hasn't been the same since she went." He added.

"Oh. I see, yes."

"Sorry Mrs Beauchamp, I know you're not one to gossip. It's such a shame that they're apart though, they make such a lovely couple."

"I wouldn't know." Connie stated flatly, suddenly not knowing what to making of this conversation and not particularly caring to hear any more.

Fortunately the doors opened and she took the opportunity to leave Fletch in the lift. No matter that she was now on Darwin, she could take the stairs.

"Ah Mrs Beauchamp." Sam called from across the corridor.

"What are you doing up here? You should be in the ED." Connie replied, half curious and half annoyed that Sam was shirking his actual job once again.

"I just came to see Jac Naylor about something."

"Right, well, back to work Mr Strachan." She ordered abruptly, slipping easily into the familiar dynamic that they'd first established in this very department.

She found herself marching back into a now empty lift, wondering quite what her brain was doing today, and sighed as she heard Sam follow her in.

"Don't look so disappointed, you just told me to go back downstairs!" He protested.

"I didn't say that." Ok she was being stubborn, but he was starting to add to her rising levels of irritation. _Serena Campbell. Bernie. Was she a rebound fuck?_ _Did it matter?_

"Your face said everything."

Sam reached over and hit the stop button on the lift.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Sam what are you doing? We both need to get back to work."

Connie began to feel the same mix of panicky anger that she'd experienced in the store cupboard a couple of weeks ago. Except this time it wasn't going to end the same way.

"I'm trying to get you to talk to me. I thought we were getting somewhere last week." Sam said, reaching out to lightly touch her shoulder.

"I told you that was a mistake."

"Yeah... but you were teasing me. Weren't you?

Sam started to look worried, and Connie wasn't prepared for this conversation. She hit the button to restart the lift.

"Sam, we got carried away. Please let's just leave it for now."

"Connie please..." he tried to take her hand but she pushed him away.

"Not now Sam."

She needed to get back to the safety of her office and think. As she closed the door behind her, she saw the open handbag on her desk and quickly retrieved her phone, fumbling to press the small button on the side. The screen was black but a green pulsing light told her she had a message. She tapped in the PIN and the screen lit up.

 _Because we want this. Talk to me later, I need to hear your voice._

Connie sank into the chair behind her desk. Dropping the phone into her lap, and finally finding the mental space she turned to her computer screen and began to work through the afternoon's emails.


	7. Chapter 7

As Bernie grabbed her handbag and keys on her way out of the office, she reflected on the day with mixed feelings. The meeting with Hanssen had not gone particularly well. He had reminded her several times how staggeringly expensive the trauma unit was, and asked her to find ways of cutting costs, which was in her opinion completely impossible.

Then there was Connie. Bernie hadn't seen or heard from her all day, not since they had said an awkward goodbye in the morning. She wished she had kissed her before she left, just to have something between them that wasn't clouded by alcohol, but they'd both been in a rush, and she wasn't really sure where they stood.

Bernie knew that she should play it cool, just wait and see, maybe they would bump into each other. But she'd found three different excuses to go to the staff cafe today, joined the queue at the coffee van AND lurked in the garden near the ED and still there was no sign of Connie Beauchamp. She wasn't surprised (Connie probably had someone bring her low cal sushi and a kale smoothie at lunchtime), but now she was done with playing it cool.

She had swapped her scrubs for a soft black pullover and dark jeans, attempted to make her hair do something sensible, and was now approaching the Emergency Department on her way out of the hospital. She would drop by, say "Hi" and test the water on a second date. If she was knocked back, she'd express mild but polite levels of disappointment and say "Sure, no worries. See you around." Then smile sweetly, go home and wallow in self pity. Possibly also drunk dial Serena and leave a pathetic answerphone message. Plan sorted.

"Can I help you?" A nurse asked Bernie as she walked past the front desk towards the offices. Clearly he didn't recognise her and she realised she wasn't wearing her ID.

"I'm looking for Mrs Beauchamp." She replied, just as a loud crash came from cubicles and someone cried out in pain. The nurse turned instinctively and ran towards the cubicle with Bernie following close behind.

Connie half fell through the closed curtain as they reached it, clutching her forearm. The nurse caught her easily in his arms but she protested, trying to wriggle free of his grasp while stemming the flow of blood with her hand.

"Jacob, let me go, I'm fine." She said impatiently. As shelooked up, she caught Bernie's eye with a flicker of surprise.

"Just Mabel, our resident drunk. She went for me with a scalpel." She explained, clearly trying to sound stoic but obviously in pain and a bit shaken.

Bernie could see that the blood had drained from her face, leaving her pale and close to fainting.

"Con, please let me.." Jacob reached for her again but Connie pulled away.

"Ms Wolfe, my office if you wouldn't mind. We'll need a suture kit."

With a quick apologetic glance at Jacob, Bernie stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Connie's lower back just in case she passed out, and they moved to the office, leaving a trail of red drops on the floor.

Once the door was closed Connie visibly relaxed, and Bernie guided her to the sofa.

'Don't move. I'll be back in a minute." She instructed.

Jacob was already outside the door with the suture kit. "Is she ok?" He asked when he handed it over, clearly worried.

"She'll be fine, just needs a couple of stitches and a hot drink. Perhaps you could bring a cup of tea?"

He nodded and walked off, happy to have something helpful to do.

"Looks like you've got a fan there." Bernie commented once the door had clicked shut, feeling a minor twinge of jealousy.

Connie had kicked off her shoes and moved to lying down on the short sofa with her knees tucked up, leaving her appearing even more slight than usual and surprisingly vulnerable. She groaned and looked away.

"He's like a puppy." She murmured, but without any bitterness in her voice.

Bernie smirked and kneeled next to her, peeling back her sleeve from the wound. It wasn't too bad, just needed a wipe and three, maybe four stitches. The scalpel had left a clean cut, so if she was careful it wouldn't scar.

She knew the alcohol wipe would sting, but Connie merely clenched her fist and made a tiny involuntary noise of discomfort.

"Sorry. Sharp scratch coming up." Out of habit Bernie repeated the words that every clinician used regardless of the actual level of pain involved.

She noticed Connie avert her eyes and was amused by the surgeon's reaction to a simple medical procedure being performed on her own flesh.

"All done. Let's give it a minute to work."

Settling into the quiet privacy of the office, it was somehow easier now to feel that they did have a connection, and that gave her the confidence to explore what was permitted by the other woman. Bernie reached over and stroked her hair gently and Connie met her gaze, unblinking.

"Perhaps I can do something else to make you feel better?"

Connie's eyes were dark and inviting, and Bernie could now believe that her suggestion was welcome. Just a kiss, placed tenderly on flushed lips...

The office door shot open and Bernie sat up abruptly, narrowly avoiding bashing the suture tray with her elbow.

"Connie what the hell happened? I heard you were attacked by a patient."

He was breathless and panicked. Another member of the Connie Beauchamp fan club, evidently.

"It's fine Sam."

"Fine? You're covered in blood!"

He was right, her white blouse was probably beyond saving.

"It looks worse than it is." Bernie responded, noticing Connie close her eyes, seemingly not keen to deal with the intruder. "I'll have Mrs Beauchamp sewn up in no time."

"Ms Wolfe, isn't it? Connie she's a trauma surgeon, if you want neat stitches surely I would be-"

"Get OUT Sam." The sharp tone of Connie s command made them both jump.

He paused but conceded. "Fine, fine. Just, be careful, please."

Bernie tried to hide her fury at having her abilities so unprofessionally questioned, and waited until they were once again alone before letting out a huff.

To her surprise, Connie laughed. "Come here." She said reaching up to touch Bernie's cheek.

Their lips met and Bernie's anger vanished. She didn't allow herself to deepen the kiss though. Not yet.

"Don't distract me, Mrs Beauchamp. I need to put your stitches in before the anasthetic wears off."

"Yes doctor." Connie replied with a smirk.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: thank you for reading, I hope some people are enjoying this. Updates will unfortunately be sporadic and vary in length as I have quite a busy job, but hey, I work in healthcare research so it's good for inspiration!_

The bandage on her arm neatly tied, and both of their shifts now over, Connie had allowed Bernie to take her home without much of a fight. Neither of them had missed the look on Sam Strachan's face when Bernie had steered her out of the department, a mixture of longing, irritation and disappointment. The ultimate kicked puppy.

"Not for you." Bernie admonished gently as she removed the chilledbottle of wine from Connie's grasp. "Give yourself a chance to feel better before you push it."

Connie had had a minor reaction to the local anaesthetic; racing heart, lightheaded... nothing serious but she hadn't been in a fit state to drive.

"Ok ok, water for me." She replied a little begrudgingly and stepped away from the fridge.

Bernie filled a glass from the kitchen tap and passed it to her. Connie had perched herself on a stool next to the island. She looked a little precarious, still slightly wobbly, and undeniably cute.

"I've made a terrible fuss haven't I." She said, clearly embarrassed. "You've been in a war zone, you must think I'm pathetic."

"No. I don't think that. Someone attacked you with a scalpel in your workplace. That's horrible, don't play it down."

She had chosen her words carefully, and Connie's expression was unreadable.

"Yes well, it's over now. No harm done."

It seemed a silly thing to say when she was clearly injured, but Bernie sensed she was referring to a mental rather than physical effect.

Before she had a chance to question it, Connie neatly changed the subject by slipping off the stool and sliding her arms around Bernie's waist.

"You said something about making me feel better...?"

"Did I?" Bernie replied, feigning innocence.

The other woman nodded, grinning, and pulled her closer. Bernie closed her eyes as their lips met in a gentle kiss. She would never stop revelling in how perfect it felt to kiss a woman, and kissing this one in particular was glorious.

She felt Connie twist her body slightly, clearly keeping her injured arm from being knocked by their embrace, and Bernie had an idea to make this better.

"Come with me." She murmered, breaking their kiss to lead Connie to the other room. She directed her to the sofa and sank to her knees in front of her, nuzzling her cheek against Connie's knees.

Connie's were dark and sparkling in the low light. She took the hint and let her legs relax apart as Bernie leant forward between them and began a careful assault on the buttons of her top, releasing them one by one and kissing the bare skin as it was revealed, until she reached her bra. Then the smooth curves of her breasts demanded attention, and Connie moaned endearingly as she licked and nibbled at the soft skin, dragging the silky material down to place a hot wet mouth on her hardening nipple.

A sudden shrill tone made both women jump; the telephone was ringing.

Connie quickly slid out from beneath her, covering herself up and wrapping the blouse tightly around her body as if the caller would be able to tell she was half undressed.

"Hello?"

The phone was in the hallway, but Bernie could hear her voice clearly.

"I can't talk right now, I'll call you another time... no it's on silent...because I'm busy. We'll speak later, ok?... You too. Bye."

When Connie re-emerged, Bernie was trying to look like she hadn't been deliberately listening, awkwardly now sitting on the sofa, waiting for her to return, not sure where to put her hands. Connie was frowning a little, but she smiled when she met Bernie's eye.

"Sorry, nothing important."

"A friend?" Bernie asked, and immediately cursed herself for sounding jealous.

"No no, it was Grace. She's at boarding school and likes to call me in the evenings, that's all."

"Oh, well if you need to speak with her that's fine, I can go..."

"No." Connie said determinedly. "Please, stay. Please. I mean it."

There was a pleading tone in her voice that Bernie noted and couldn't ignore. For whatever reason, she didn't want to be alone tonight, and that was fine. As it happened, Bernie Wolfe never wanted to leave.


	9. Chapter 9

Another late night, and another early start at work on AAU. She wasn't used to this any more, and it was showing. The team might not have noticed yet, but her office-mate was certainly suspicious.

"Bernie, you've been in a daze all morning. Are you going to tell whats going on?"

"Mm? Oh, nothing." She said lightly.

Ric chuckled. "Right, nothing. You know, all this leaving the office on time, smiling to yourself, yawning... I get the feeling you've been seeing someone... am I right?"

Ric was too damn observant for his own good. Bernie knew that her expression was giving her away. Did it really matter if he found out? She was bursting to tell someone, just to make it real, to release herself from the secret. Because she was a bit pleased with herself, actually. The drop dead gorgeous Connie Beauchamp had spent the last four nights in her bed, and it had been truly sublime. Fuck it.

"I have been seeing someone actually, yes.."

"I knew it." Ric declared triumphantly. "Someone at the hospital?"

"Mmhmm."

He leant back in his chair, accepting the challenge. He liked a guessing game.

"Hayley from ortho? Oh no wait, Elise the Dutch girl in Rheumatology?"

Bernie shook her head. Elise was pretty, although far too young for her, but neither suggestions werea patch on Connie.

"No," Ric mused. "You'd go for someone in a more exciting department, wouldn't you. Heart surgery maybe. Is it someone on Darwin?"

Bernie bit her lip to suppress and smile at his deduction. "Closer, but no."

"Ok, the cut and thrust, but not cardio. And presumably not AAU..."

Bernie shook her head, thinking momentarily of Serena. Definitely not on AAU.

"So that leaves... the ED?"

Bernie pretended to act nonchalant, typing some utter nonsense on her keyboard as if she had more important things to do. Which come to think of it, she really did.

"Maybe."

"Aha. But I cant think of anyone down there who might be... your type. So who?"

"An old friend of yours." Bernie finally gave him a clue, suppressing a smirk.

Ric frowned. "The only person I know in the ED is Connie Beauchamp, so..."

Bernie shrugged. "Well it's her. Well done." She said quickly, suddenly realising as it came out that actually, she should have had a conversation with Connie about this first before outing her to a colleague, and now she would have to swear Ric to secrecy and pray he didn't open his mouth. Shit.

Ric burst out laughing, clearly finding the idea truly hilarious. Bernie looked up, unamused.

"You are joking, of course." He managed to get out between bursts of laughter.

She frowned. "No."

"But Connie, she's... I mean she's had most of the male surgeons in the hospital, ok, ok, an exaggeration perhaps. But back in the day, even I..." He stopped when he saw the expression on Bernie's face.

"You? You were in a relationship with Connie?"

"Not a relationship, just a one off thing, God knows I wanted more at the time but, well she was married for a start. Sorry. You probably didn't want to hear all this, and I shouldn't have said anything, that was unkind of me."

Just as Bernie had decided she needed to get out of the office really very quickly to get some much needed air on the roof, Henrik Hanssen appeared in the doorway.

"Ms Wolfe, we need to talk." He glanced sideways at Ric. "My office perhaps?"

Ric took the hint, "Actually I'm needed on the ward, I'll leave you to it."

Connie didn't go up to the roof much any more, it was too busy these days. She'd found a new place to lurk when she needed to be alone. Just beyond the ED car park there was a gate through to the canal. It was pleasant to walk along the towpath for a couple of minutes, even if she had to be rather careful in her beloved shoes. There was a wooden bench further along with a brass plaque on it, and the name was etched into her memory. She sat down and released a sigh.

Will Curtis. An enduring source of guilt, even after all these years. She tortured herself by coming here when she needed to wallow in it. More recent things preying on her mind? Sending Grace away, finding some comfort in Sam before cutting him out so abruptly, the mess with Jacob... Bernie. She didn't know how to feel about Bernie.

She wasn't scared of being with a woman, and she certainly didn't feel the need to question her sexuality or have a meltdown over it. If anything she was surprised it had taken her this long to find female company. Being with Bernie felt like being safe, being worshipped, loved even. It felt easy and fun and it made her happy when they were together. But she didn't deserve someone as kind and good and loving as Bernie Wolfe.

If Serena Campbell came back...

Connie already knew the answer to that one. She looked out across the murky water and idly wondered how cold it was.

When they were together, kissing and touching and making love, it felt seriously good, but if she was starting to fall in love with Bernie, she was heading towards getting her heart broken.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's note: apologies for the extreme delay in uploading this chapter. It was in danger of being abandoned after Bernie left Holby, but I've been encouraged to keep going...

* * *

It wasn't easy to find time together, just a few moments here and there at work, and if their shifts allowed, the odd evening out or night in, but they were slowly learning about each other. They had begun to share little pieces of the past that had shaped them, and some of the things that had hurt them along the way.

If Bernie was being honest with herself, this was about exploring a path beyond the pain of Serena's sudden departure. It was about finding someone who made her feel whole and wanted again. She recognised the loneliness in Connie, and felt fairly sure that there was more to their relationship than being a warm body in her bed. It was hard to imagine Connie confiding in Sam or Jacob the things she had told Bernie. It was far from just companionship though; while this was still all new and exciting, they were relishing the seductive glances in the corridor, the carefully veiled flirtations, and even the occasional hurried fumbling in a dark store cupboard.

Fortunately, being a trauma surgeon was equally distracting, otherwise she might have been rendered entirely useless by thoughts of Connie Beauchamp. Between the thrills of private pleasure and the workplace adrenalin rush, Bernie had almost forgotten Ric's incredulous reaction to her confession, and the uncomfortable comments about Connie's infamous personal life.

Their work calendars loaded up in parallel, and she smiled to herself. They were on equivalent day shifts, which meant that there was an opportunity to go out after work. They could have a few glasses of red, some food, enjoy some subtle but suggestive touches across (and under) the table, and then wait the very short amount of time it would take for Connie to reach the limits of her patience and demand that they went back to her place for dessert...

The perfect evening, Bernie thought with a smirk, as she reached for her phone and relaxed back into her chair.

...

It was all Connie could do to keep her hands to herself in the taxi. Not only was Bernie giving her the kind of look that suggested a myriad of delicious things she had in mind for when they got home, she was also wearing a new perfume this evening and the scent of her was divine. Connie glanced at the rear view mirror but met the gaze of the driver who was eyeing them with interest. There was no way they were giving _him_ a show. She subtly dragged her finger along Bernie's thigh, and encouraged by an alcohol-induced warmth, felt a growing ache of excitement. Bernie silently responded by resting an innocent hand on Connie's knee, but even that caused a delightful ripple of pleasure. She struggled to suppress a smile at her own physical reaction.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, she felt anticipation heighten her senses. The driver sped off down the deserted road and Bernie, similarly impatient, slipped her arm around Connie's waist as she fumbled for the key, turning and pushing her back against the porch. Connie giggled and sighed, almost dropping the keys entirely. Instead of kissing her though, Bernie paused as their eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her smile faltered a little.

"I just wanted to say..."

She looked down and Connie felt a knot in her stomach. Bernie sighed, shaking her head, and then met her gaze with wide brown eyes.

"I know it hasn't been very long, but I think I might be falling in love with you, Connie Beauchamp."

It was at that moment, that perfect little moment, when Connie should have replied that _yes, she absolutely felt the same bloody way and why didn't they get inside already and do something about it,_ that her eye caught sight of something glinting in the shadows shrouding the doorstep.

She opened her mouth to say something, but all she could feel was the cold hard wall behind her, the sharp door key digging into her palm as she clutched it tightly, and the rising sense of unease taking up all the space in her chest. She knew she had paused too long, and felt Bernie slipping away from her, blushing and awkward with embarassment.

"Wait..." She managed to say, her voice coming out almost as a whisper, but Bernie had already turned and half-stumbled into the object that should not have been there.

"What is... Oh." She reached down to pick up the bunch of white roses, and Connie shivered, wanting desperately to rip them from her grasp, but trying to stay calm and appear nonchalant.

"Probably from a patient." She muttered a little too hurriedly, turning the key in the lock. "Let's get inside and have another drink."

Bernie didn't move at first, staring at the perfect blooms bound in ribbon and silver paper, but she conceded slowly, handing over the gift, and following Connie into the kitchen.

"I'm quite tired actually." Connie said quietly as she took a vase from under the sink and dumped the flowers unceremoniously into it.

"You'll need to put some water in those, here let me..." Bernie replied with a frown. She held the vase under the tap and filled it slowly, leaning forward to catch the scent of the flowers, the velvet petals brushing her nose.

"Mmm. They smell gorgeous." She said, closing her eyes briefly.

Feeling nauseous, Connie silently turned and went out into the cool hallway. She paused for a moment, clutching the bannister at the foot of the stairs, and felt a light touch on her lower back.

"I can go home if you prefer." Bernie said quietly behind her, though there was a note of disappointment in her voice.

"No." Connie replied quickly. "Please stay."

She slipped her hand into Bernie's and smiled. "I don't want you to go anywhere."

The other woman stared at her, concern and worry clear in her eyes, but when she spoke her voice was confident and reassuring.

"Ok. Well you go upstairs, I'll just grab some water."

Connie nodded and turned back to the staircase, her legs heavy and slow as she moved up into the darkness.

...

There was already a shape under the duvet when Bernie entered the dimly lit bedroom. She quietly placed a glass of water on Connie's bedside table and returned to her own side.

Funny that she already thought of this as _her_ side of the bed.

She slipped off her clothes quickly, feeling the air chill her skin as they dropped into a heap on the floor, and considered, but resisted, the urge to pick up each item and fold it neatly on the chair. The desire to get warm and close to the other woman was greater than force of habit.

Sliding under the covers she reached an arm out to turn off the lamp and shuffled across to the slight figure hidden under the duvet.

" _Hey._ " She whispered, gently moulding her position to Connie's. There was minimal response, but she felt her relax as she ran her fingers up Connie's bare arm, settling at the soft skin of her shoulder.

A moment or two of gentle touches and light teasing kisses, and Connie finally stirred. Bernie shifted a little to allow her to turn and lie on her back, her hand resting on her slim waist. Connie's eyes glinted in the hint of light that bled in through the curtains from a nearby street lamp. She was wearing nothing but a short camisole and knickers, the lace hem of which Bernie teased with her little finger.

She wasn't used to taking the lead with Connie, and the other woman seemed suddenly smaller and more delicate than before.

Moving a little down the bed, Bernie slid the silky material up to bunch under her breasts and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin. She looked up, and Connie was staring back at her silently, with dark eyes. Without breaking their eye contact she slid her hand deftly under the lacy material, eliciting a quiet moan as Connie's eyes closed and she pressed her head back against the pillow, her hips lifting a little to increase the pressure.

Bernie dipped her head to tease Connie's stomach with her tongue and lips, as her fingers found the sensitive spot they were seeking, and she noted with satisfaction that Connie's mouth opened with a gasp.

"Too many clothes." She breathed, sliding the knickers down Connie's thighs before nudging them apart and settling herself between them.

Connie released a most endearing moan as Bernie's tongue pressed and circled her clit, one hand spayed across her stomach to hold her still and the other firmly gripping her thigh.

Bernie felt fingers tenderly twist into her hair and stroke the back of her neck. A slight pressure indicated she should look up, and Bernie smirked, expecting to see Connie's face flushed with desire, her lips begging to be kissed.

She hadn't been expecting to see tears shining on those glowing cheeks.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Connie shook her head, blinking rapidly. Bernie felt cold with panic. Had she misjudged this?

"Did I do something wrong, did I hurt you?"

"No, no, it's nothing, I'm being silly. It felt good, I'm just really tired."

It was clearly an excuse, but Bernie didn't want to point that out and risk further upset.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you." Bernie replied, awkwardly retreating across the bed a little to give her space.

She had hoped that Connie would reply, would reach out to her, just to link hands or curl up together to go to sleep, but no, there was no response. She lay awake, worrying and staring at the dark ceiling until sleep eventually came.

...

The urge to get him on the phone came from her intense anger and frustration at being unable to sleep for the last three hours. He had ruined their evening with his ridiculous gesture, and intruded on her thoughts and feelings to the extent that she knew she had hurt Bernie, but didn't know how to repair that or what to say. How fucking dare her he do that to her.

As soon as he picked up, and the prospect of actually talking to him about this became a reality, she realised it had been a mistake. She had overreacted, that was her fault not his, and calling him would only reveal it. It was probably what he wanted, even, to hear her voice again, and to whisper his persuasive, comforting words to her.

They had been messaging each other and occasionally talking, for some time, despite the distance, physical and emotional, that had existed between them ever since she had chosen her career over what little was left of their marriage, and he had left for Stockholm. She wasn't sure why she had kept the thread of conversation going. He invariably irritated her, but perhaps she had been feeling a little lonely and overwhelmed by Sam's claustrophobic hovering and Jacob's Bambi eyes. Sometimes, getting wrapped up in typing out those thoughts and feelings on her phone, she had recklessly forgotten that it was Michael she was confiding in.

"Connie?" His voice was hesitant, soft, and a little deeper than it used to be.

"It was you wasn't it _."_ She launched straight in, trying to find the anger that had got her to this point. "I told you, no more gifts."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. It's a cliché but I saw them and thought of you _."_

She tried to formulate an appropriately cutting response, but he continued.

"Why did you call me, Connie? It's the middle of the night."

 _"_ I was angry. I _am_ angry, and I couldn't sleep."

"So you thought you'd wake me up?" He chuckled.

"Fine, goodbye Michael." She replied sharply, feeling increasingly vulnerable and clearly recognising that this had been a mistake.

"No, no, talk to me Con, now I'm awake. Are you at home?"

"Yes."

"In our bed?" He asked, a hint of something seductive in his tone.

Connie tip-toed across the carpet and opened the door a crack to look out onto the landing. There was no light from her bedroom and no sign of movement.

"It's not 'our' bed any more as you well know." She replied in hushed tones, avoiding his question.

"Sorry, just teasing."

"And don't even think about asking me what I'm wearing." She added, pulling the thin dressing gown tighter around her body.

Michael laughed it off, as she had half expected him to.

"I wouldn't dare."

They fell silent, and Connie found herself waiting for him to say something. His familiar voice had brought back memories that vied for her attention, some of them rather good, but always, she reminded herself, tempered by the bad.

"Oh Connie." Michael sighed. "It's good to hear your voice again."

"Well don't get used to it." She replied quickly, but regretted it a little almost immediately.

"Hey, we can still be friends can't we?" There was hurt in his voice, and it sounded genuine.

"That's not a very good idea." She said quietly, perching on the bed.

It was starting to get chilly, and she knew there was a warm bed waiting for her, but something held her back from ending the call. She heard the glug of liquid being poured from a bottle. Whiskey probably, his usual drink. She wouldn't mind a swig.

"You know, I'd love to meet Grace one day." He said, changing the subject. "I bet she's a very clever young lady."

Connie closed her eyes and sighed, knowing what he was thinking. She hadn't wanted children back then. He'd asked, but she was so focused on her career that it didn't seem possible. She wondered if he had had children with someone else, but wasn't sure if she wanted to know. If he had, he was presumably now single again if he could answer his phone in the middle of the night to his ex-wife without getting into trouble. Or had he too found a quiet corner of the house to hide in while they spoke?

On that note, she was aware that she'd been gone for too long.

"Look, it's late, I should go. Just... please don't send anything else. I mean it."

"No wait, talk to me Connie." He pleaded.

"No, I can't."

"Are you alone?" He asked with curiousity, "Is there someone else there?"

Connie quickly ended the call and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. That could never happen again.

...

As soon as she had woken up, Bernie had decided that it was easier to let herself out without saying goodbye.

First the flowers and Connie's strange reaction to them, then their awkward, aborted intimacy, and finally waking up in the early hours to find she was alone in the bed, and hearing a muffled conversation through the bedroom door. Was it really Grace calling again? It seemed implausible at that hour, and her gut feeling was that something was wrong. Was it Sam or Jacob that Connie was sneaking off to talk to? And was she sleeping with them as well?

Bernie pulled the door behind her with a heavy heart, and the lock clicked shut. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi and stared down at her evening shoes as it began to ring. She frowned and bent down to look more closely. Her heel had caught the corner of a tiny white envelope, muddied by a footprint.

She picked it up and quickly cancelled the call before it was answered. Glancing up at the bedroom window, she would see that the curtains were still closed.

The envelope contained a small embossed card, and Bernie turned it over to read the handwritten message, bordered by a vine of tiny silver leaves.

 _For my darling Connie. Yours, always, M x_

She felt numb as she stared at the missive, which had presumably dropped out of the bouquet unnoticed in the dark. It wasn't Sam or Jacob then. But it was someone who knew Connie, who cared about her, who loved her. Bernie's eyes stung with tears as she slipped the note and envelope into her pocket and walked quickly down the path to the road, almost running to escape this. How utterly stupid had she been? Connie didn't love her, she was just a plaything, a novelty. Ric had been right all along and she had been blinded by some kind of teenage excitement. It was pathetic.

Tears blurred her vision as she stepped into the road, and a black car screeched to a halt in front of her, the bumper colliding with her leg as it stopped, and she fell against the bonnet. Shocked and disorientated, she held up her hands in apology and could see the driver mirroring her expression.

"For God's sake... Are you ok?" He asked, getting out to look at her, and the car. "You're not hurt are you?"

The relief that she was wasn't, added to the night's stresses and the note burning a hole in her pocket... It was all too much.

"Oh, please don't cry, look I'll give you a lift, wherever you're going." He said hurriedly, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder.

Bernie silently shook her head, but her attempts to stem the flow of tears were unsuccessful.

"It's ok, I'm a doctor." He said reassuringly, and she gave him a wry smile.

"Me too."

"Michael." He said, holding out a tissue in lieu of a handshake.

"Bernie." She replied, taking it gratefully. "And thank you."

"No problem."

His eyes were full of concern, and she found herself mustering a smile to reassure him that she wasn't a complete mess. She would get over this and move on, eventually. Rationally she knew that. It just didn't get any easier, with age or experience, having your heart broken.  
...


	11. Chapter 11

Guy's Hospital, London, 1994

The tiredness was perpetual, but satisfying. Being accepted onto the team of a leading consultant, and one whose own rise through the ranks had been meteoric, was challenging and exhilarating. Connie had known on her first day on the ward that cardiothoracics was her calling. She still struggled to fit in with the cliquey, back-stabbing little circle of junior doctors, but now she had a goal, and she was determined to impress Mr Beauchamp. His reputation for being driven and pushing his people hard to get the most out of them was proving to be accurate, but she hadn't had any problems on that front. No one could push Connie Chase harder than she pushed herself.

She had volunteered to be part of his research team, unpaid of course, and on top of the 90 hour week expected by the Trust. It was exhausting but invaluable, with the added bonus of excusing her from having to socialise with her peers.

Tonight she had finished on the ward but needed to check a few things in the library, so she bundled her papers into a bag and wrapped her woollen scarf around her neck in anticipation of a chilly walk through the city. Pausing by the window, she saw the first flakes of snow falling in the darkness. The thought of a two mile walk to her digs laden with books was enough to make her consider the on-call room, but there were only so many nights she could spend at the hospital before she needed a fresh supply of clothes.

She recalled the evening a few months before when a car had pulled up next to her as she hurried along from one street lamp to the next, hearing her own heart beat and studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone else who might be out at that time of night. The sense of relief when she had seen and recognised his face was like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. He'd smiled and waved her over to his glossy black coupé to offer her a lift home. Of course she had tried to refuse out of politeness, but he'd insisted, and she had been glad that he had because it proved that he meant it, and that felt good.

There would be no lift tonight, Mr Beauchamp would have gone home hours ago. Though he'd never mentioned it, she presumed he did have someone to go home to. Still, she passed his office on her way out of the building, refusing to acknowledge to herself that this represented an entirely unnecessary detour, and stopped when she saw a crack of light at the bottom of the door. Perhaps she could just say goodnight, would that be acceptable? He might be busy and not want to be disturbed, but he didn't usually seem to mind her dropping by. The temptation was difficult to resist.

Still unsure, she lifted her hand to knock on the door but paused and instead lightly touched the varnished wood.

 _He won't be interested, you'll just embarrass yourself._

The door opened suddenly under her touch, and she stepped back, surprised.

"Dr Chase?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed, not sure what to say.

"You wanted to see me?" He continued, resting a hand casually on the door frame as he waited for a response.

"I... Umm..." _Shit shit shit._

His expression softened and he seemed a little amused.

"Your heels give you away, I can always tell when you're coming down the corridor. I should inform you that they're inappropriate, but I rather like knowing where you are."

Connie cursed her red-hot cheeks and looked down.

"I'm just off." She muttered, trying to regain control of the conversation, "Well, to the library. Just thought I'd say goodnight."

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and he opened the door further, beckoning her in.

"If you've got time to go to the library, Connie, you've got time for a drink."

...

A pervading sense of emptiness descended on Bernie as they drew further and further from Connie's home. For things to end like this, after so many wonderful hours spent in each others company, it felt like such a waste. Was she overreacting? No, she quashed that thought as soon as it struck. Ric had warned her about Connie, and he had been right. Whatever her motivation, whatever the extent of the lies, it didn't matter really. Bernie wasn't going to be made a fool of again. The unfairness of it stung, badly, and she let out a sigh without realising it was coming.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Michael asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the road.

She gave him a sideways glance and considered whether she recognised him from the hospital. She didn't think so. Maybe he was a GP. His tone held genuine concern, but Bernie had been lost in her own thoughts and had no idea where to start with voicing them. She probably owed him something, though, given that she'd almost involved him in a car accident.

"Just a relationship that has probably ended." She mused. _Had it really been a relationship?_

"So you had an argument? Is that why you were upset? None of my business of course, I won't be offended if you tell me to drop it."

He glanced at her with a wry smile but quickly returned his gaze to the road.

"No, we haven't argued. Not yet. I think... she might be seeing someone else."

If he was surprised by her use of the feminine pronoun, he hid it well. Bernie looked away.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He replied politely, offering no judgment or solutions, which came as a relief.

The conversation lapsed into awkward silence again. As they reached the traffic lights her phone beeped and she pulled it from her pocket. Seeing the message preview on the screen she sighed and put it back.

"Is that her?" He asked, apparently still concentrating hard on the traffic up ahead. Well good, Bernie thought, easier to talk when you don't have to look someone in the eye, even a stranger.

"Mmm. She wants to know why I left without saying goodbye."

A slight eyebrow twitch. Perhaps he was starting to look familiar, or maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

"I see. Have you been together for long?"

"Not really, a few months." Bernie replied. Was she going to do this? Talk about her recently failed lesbian relationship with some random man she'd just met? Well, why the hell not. There was no one else to vent to after all. Ric would only say _I told you so_.

"She's not out at work." She continued, "I mean, I think this is new for her. She used to be married to a man."

A pause as he changed lanes and dropped down a gear.

"I imagine that makes life difficult for you too."

"In a way." She replied, thinking back to Serena's struggle to acknowledge and admit to her sexuality. Connie wasn't like that though, she wouldn't have cared what other people thought. Unless it was all just meaningless fun to her, a mere distraction until the next young registrar came along in a freshly ironed shirt...

 _Yours, always, M._

No, that wasn't the flirtatious scribbling of a junior colleague, it implied history.

They pulled into the main car park and drew to a halt. Michael turned to face her with what was presumably intended to be a comforting smile.

"I hope things work out for you Bernie. Clearly this woman doesn't deserve you. If I were you I'd move on, put it behind you."

Bernie smiled in return, but didn't feel any better. She was already planning how to get through the day without going anywhere near the ED.

"Thank you for the lift." She managed politely before closing the car door behind her.

...

No reply.

Connie knocked her phone off the bedside table in frustration and sank back into the pillows. The bitter taste of guilt and her dwindling sense of self-respect were too much to face. An email to Charlie had been sufficient to inform them she was taking the day off sick, and that wasn't too far from the truth.

She pulled the duvet back round herself into a cucoon and closed her eyes.

...

It was late, and Connie hadn't wanted to have this discussion now, but he'd given her no choice. At least the department was quiet; if it ended badly, there wouldn't be many of her fellow juniors around to pick over the bones.

She had closed the office door carefully behind her just in case.

"I thought we were a team."

His tone was hash and accusatory, and he stood abruptly to pace around the office. She kept quiet, aware of the dangerous path the conversation was taking, and willing herself to maintain some dignity.

"I don't understand why you need to go anyway. You can continue your training and be an excellent surgeon here, it's the best teaching hospital in London for God's sake."

He waited until she was forced to cover the silence with a response.

"You know it's the best thing for my career, it's an incredible opportunity." She answered weakly, the carefully rehearsed words tumbling uncomfortably from her mouth.

"An opportunity that will take you half way around the world, away from your family, your friends..."

She smarted at the reference to her father and felt anger rising in her chest. How dare he say that, knowing everything that she had confessed to him. A dead mother and a gambler for a father gave her no reason to stay, quite the opposite. As for friends, did she even have any anymore?

"And from me." He added finally as he stopped in front of her, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She uncrossed her arms to brush him away but he took advantage of that, grabbing her wrist tightly as if she had raised it to slap him.

"Connie." He spoke her name softly, intimately. "Don't leave."

"Let go." She warned, but he wasn't letting go, he was holding her with an iron grip. Taking no notice of her half-hearted protest, he rested his other hand on her waist and stared at her.

Was this what she thought it was? After the years of flirting, drinking together, the unfulfilled desire and countless missed opportunities... he was offering her this _now_?

"Michael..." She warned, willing herself to be strong.

"Come here." He said quietly, tugging her closer and sliding his hand round to the small of her back. They had never been this close.

When he dipped his head and their lips met, she knew he'd won.

...


End file.
